


Interface

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [628]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: thebaconsandwichofregret askedBecause I'm sick *cough* and you have to be nice to me, can I pretty please have Jeff being a bit of a flirt and the boys remembering that oh yeah, Dad's super embarrassing, why did we go to space and rescue this guy again?
Series: prompt ficlets [628]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/53353
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

The long island recuperation lulled them into a false sense of security. Jeff was pretty beat up, lacking pretty much every vitamin under the sun, and under strict orders to sit by the pool, soak up the sun, and eat big hearty meals while his body healed.

“Come on, Scott,” he whined, sounding remarkably like Alan for all his drawl deepened and the huskiness of his voice as he dragged out the ‘ott’ in Scott. “I’m bored. If I wanted to stay cooped up forever, I could have stayed on my rock.”

“Your rock disintegrated,” Scott pointed out.

“As will I,” Jeff shot back.

Scott thinks of Jeff’s immunology reports, of a body that’s forgotten how to be in a pack. “Fine. Virgil has to do a supply run. In and out. And if you get tired, you have to say so, got it?”

Jeff held up a two finger salute. “Scout’s honor.”

Scott hoped he wasn’t going to regret it.

“I regret everything,” Virgil growled as he stomped past Scott several hours later

“Why? What’s wrong? Did dad…”

Virgil whirled on his boot and pointed a finger back up the gangway. “How did we forget what a _menace_ he can be?”

Scott frowned and ducked under the hatch and into Two.

Jeff was standing by the controls in the main hold, watching the bots unload the supplies, more concerned with his phone than with the unload.

“Hey dad. How’d it go?” Jeff looks fine, stood on one leg as he leaned against the bulkhead.

“Great, son. What’s a six letter word for ‘to travel boldly?’“

Scott’s frown was getting a workout today. “Huh?”

“Amelia at the depo station friended me on this word game. Oh, by the way, the poker night with Mac and Rajid is Thursdays, since I’m not cleared to fly yet, would one of you boys be able to drop me off?”

“Who?”

Jeff finally lowered his phone. “The very nice people who supply these supplies?” he says like it’s obvious.

Scott’s been signing off on the weekly requisitions for eight years and had no idea the names on the other side, and says so.

He’s forgotten how impactful Jeff’s _disappointed_ face is. “You, my boy, need to work on your people skills. Let me text Rajid, we’ll add you to the poker table…”

“Dad!” Scott cuts him off. “I don’t need-”

“Yes you do,” Jeff cuts right back in. “Besides, Amelia has two kids, both right around your age. You can have your pick.”

“Dad!”

Jeff’s grin is impish, Alan’s grin only older and dirtier. “Is that a no?”

“That is a no, I do not want you to set me up with either of Amelia’s kids.”

“Then you won’t mine me asking Amelia to dinner on Friday?”

Scott blushed scarlet as Jeff cackled. “You are never going off this island unsupervised again!”

“So that’s a yes for poker? Great, we’ll leave before dinner. Bring cash.”

Scott gave up and fled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> undercoverchikin asked  
> Hmm coming off that prompt of Jeff being a flirt, what would be his opinion on his own mother and Kip Harris?

“That your _grandmother_ has had more dates than you in the last eight years is depressingly not surprising.”

Scott’s fresh off eight hours coordinating a rescue off a deep sea research facility and all he wants is a hot meal, a hotter shower and lukewarm bed. The last thing he needs is another round with dad’s _not impressed_ face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, dad, things have been kind of hectic.”

At least dad is doing him the courtesy of making him an omelette. He slides it onto a plate and in front of Scott before replying. “Hectic is our livelihood, Scott. Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice everything on the altar of helping others. You’re allowed personal time.”

“Uh huh,” Scott mumbles non-committedly around his mouthful, shoveling in another forkful of omelette to fully save him from having to formulate an answer.

“Also, can I just say, Kip Harris? Your grandma got game. You should ask her for tips.”

Scott nearly choked on his full mouth, reaching for his juice as he spluttered. Jeff was grinning, and Scott knew it was the old bastard’s goal. “Dad!” He coughed out as his airways cleared. “I don’t date rescues and I don’t date colleagues. No fishing off the company pier, wasn’t that your advice to me?”

Jeff nods. “There are a lot of people in this world who are neither.”

Scott held out his hands, beholding the empty kitchen and the dark pool deck beyond. “Where?”

“You meet them on these incredible things call _breaks_. You know, _time off_? I’ve looked at the logs, I can understand why this is an unfamiliar concept, son.”

“We’ve been busy,” Scott mutters, hunching over his eggs.

“Yeah, well, the doc has cleared me, so you now have a spare. Take the weekend, go mingle.”

“Dad-”

“Go mingle or go ask grandma for dating tips. Your choice.”

Scott’s intimately familiar with games of diminishing odds. “Yes sir. Thanks for the omelette.” He stands, stretching until his joints pop. “Also,” he adds, unable to resist even as he inches towards the stairs. “Bring One back with a full tank of gas and no scratches, y’hear me?”

Jeff’s booming laughter warms Scott all the way through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thebaconsandwichofregret asked  
> So uh, how does Scott's break go?

Scott hates that dad is right.

It’s loud here; the music thumping making the table rattle and putting Scott in mind of aftershocks. He doesn’t recognize this song, or any of the others the DJ has played. He feels under-dressed in slacks and a soft button down, and he feels he might be behind the fashion, given the sly sideways glances he’s been getting all night.

Scott has felt more comfortable in an active volcano.

He’s still on his first drink, getting a buzz off just a sip, and it’s a nice distraction to count how long since he’s sat with a beer. It’s definitely been years.

“Excuse me?”

Scott hates he jumps, startled a little. “Sorry? Oh, am I in your way?” He steps aside to the girl’s puzzled look, taking his beer with him.

“No, I-?” she begins, but the crowd sways, jostling Scott a few more feet away from her.

Scott surrenders his spot on the end of the bar, inching his way around the crowd towards the exit. Maybe he’d just go grab a burger, maybe even catch a movie. The crowd is too much for his tastes, hands brushing by his arm and hip as he squeezes through the gaps towards the door.

Fashionable young things crowd the entrance, waiting to get in, and Scott feels so old as they look him over, no doubt cataloguing every silver hair. He smiles and nods at the bouncer, turns left away from the queue waiting, and tries not to listen to the whispering that erupts in his wake.


End file.
